Drunken Kisses
by Kazuman21
Summary: Daniel persuades Rorschach to accompany him to a bar after their daily route. Sometimes alcohol brings out the worst in people, but sometimes it brings out the truth.


His head was spinning. Glazed blue eyes stared down at the floor intently like it held the secrets of the universe, his focus going from blurry to crystal clear, the grimy bar floor getting closer to his face then retracting timidly. He'd never drank alcohol before in his entire life. Refused to. He wasn't some average Joe that gave into temptation, the scum that prowled the streets and drowned their problems in liquor. He was pure when no one else was. He was the masked figure that inhabited the shadows fighting for what the world needed, not wanted. He was the bloody candle in the midst of darkness, which is why he was so confused.

It was all Daniel's fault. He remembered that much at least in his drunken haze. DANIEL had asked Rorschach to accompany him longer than usual after their nightly route. It had been a slow day and Daniel had joked that "maybe even criminals hate Mondays," but Rorschach hadn't thought it as funny as the taller man. "I'm going out tonight... would you like to come?" Dan had asked the question almost hesitantly only arousing suspicion from the blotted man at first. However, it didn't matter what Daniel asked. The red head had almost eagerly refused, deciding on "no" even before the taller man finished his question, but DANIEL had persuaded him against his gut instinct using excuses like "I don't want to be alone," and, "What if something happened while you were gone?" Rorschach hadn't known how to take the second reason. Was Dan worried about himself or Rorschach? The red head pushed the thoughts out of his mind quickly. He didn't have time to doddle around with such pointless thoughts and now, sitting on a tattered bar stool that slightly smelled of piss while teetering back and forth like a mad man, he'd wished he had listened to his gut.

The first obstacle that the amazingly persuasive Daniel had overcome was Rorschach's firm stance that he would not drink any alcoholic beverage what so ever. At first the brunette had receded. Rorschach thought Daniel was actually honoring his decision, but as the night went on and Daniel became more of a disposal bin for liquor than a hero, he appeared less and less concerned about the inked man's convictions. He gained a false confidence that rooted him on in his brain, made him push further than he would any other night. Rorschach had successfully resisted for fifteen minutes until he caved in. Somehow that smile, canines peeking from his full lips, brown eyes swirling in a seductive dance, the musky smell that was Daniel's alone, that warm solid hand on his shoulder, combined together, had mesmerized him.

"Just one drink. You need to loosen up a little," Daniel had cooed, so close to the blotted vigilante's ear that he smelt his thick breath laced with alcohol. He could feel warmth emitting from the man's sloppy grip on his body. A shiver had gone down his spine like a bullet. "Just one drink," he retorted with sand in his throat, slowly choosing his words to make sure Daniel wouldn't find a loop hole to navigate around.

Daniel placed a shot glass full of an amber substance in front of him triumphantly, the glass clanking against the cheap wood material of the bar. Starring at it, Rorschach examined the contents quizzically. He'd seen stumbling men with brown paper bags in their clumsy grasp, a liquor bottle inside, but he'd never really _studied_ the drink. He picked it up cautiously and sniffed it. Poignant. The sharp smell stabbed his senses viciously and made his eyes water slightly. Why would someone drink something so foul; something that made you do things you regretted in the morning? Rorschach glanced sideways in his mask. He could see Daniel gazing at him intently, a wolf and surveying his prey (maybe like a barn owl and a mouse for use of a better metaphor). Rorschach lifted a purple gloved hand and pulled his swirling mask up half way by the hem. Feeling the rough stare of his partner, the red head licked his bottom lip nervously, brought the tip of the cold glass to his mouth, and then swallowed like it was poison. It hit his throat in a flaming wave, burning as it rushed down to his stomach. It was a strange sensation and filled him with warmth, feeling slightly numbed, but soon he was coughing.

Daniel chuckled. "There you go my friend: your first shot of whiskey," he boomed slapping Rorschach on the back powerfully. Rorschach sputtered, alcohol and spit landing on his chapped lips. He peered up at Daniel in mid cough and knew his friend was drunk. "Rosy cheeks, dull eyes, definitely drunk," he deduced in his head while frowning.

"Another!" Daniel yelled raising his arms victoriously as if he'd made a touch down. Rorschach couldn't help but smile softly and chuckle. He didn't condone the behavior, but he'd allow it for now.

_Allow it for now_: words Rorschach wished he'd forced out of his head. Drink after drink, some clear, some brown, some green, some orange, some bitter, some fruity, all came in waves one after the other. Each new glass drew the words, "No more," out of his mouth, but those eyes and those lips made his mind go blank and his hands bring another glass to his mouth until the words "no more" were slurred and indistinguishable from his usual grunts and hurms.

He could hear Daniel shout somewhere in the background. The blotted vigilante was simply amazed that the other man could still amble around albeit the occasional trip here and there. It seemed he had made himself popular in the last thirty minutes. The alcohol gave him unbridled confidence and easy charm; a combination deadly to any normal person. He was an equation for sex, an equation for a quickie in the alley that you felt blessed to be part of as hungry hands caressed sensitive flesh, an equation for an unrequited love to blossom unintentionally. "Too much repetition," Rorschach grumbled in his mind. He scoffed at his thoughts. Unrequited love? So sappy. "It's the alcohol," he convinced himself.

Suddenly there was a thud on his back. "Hey Rory!" Daniel slurred, a smug grin spread across his countenance accompanied by tussled brown hair.

"Hurm," Rorschach replied hoarsely. It was the only response he could mutter without sounding drunker than his partner. The hand slid down his back achingly slow then fell to Daniel's side. There was a rousing in Rorschach's stomach. He'd learned to associate it with Daniel by now, but that didn't make the sensation any more welcome. He hated the fluttering feeling he got when Daniel touched him. It made the red head feel dirty, used, guilty… Rorschach looked at the bar and spotted a glass that still had a gulp of booze nestled at the bottom. He downed it as quick as he could, swiping his tongue around the glass as if the droplets would salvage his sanity and make his scandalous thoughts of Daniel disappear.

"You and your _hurms_. Would it kill you to answer me correctly once in a while?" Daniel complained.

"Maybe," he retorted sardonically pulling his mask back down.

The blots shifted violently as a petite blonde clad in clothing that left little to the imagination came and wrapped her gangly arms around Daniel's waist as if she'd known him for years. It was a whore's embrace. She smelt of cigarettes and an overpowering medley of rose and lavender. It was a scent he attributed to the corner that the prostitutes frequented.

"Greasy hair. Too much make-up. Dirty whore. Has no right touching Daniel!" Rorschach roared in his head.

When Daniel spoke he had been shocked into thinking the man had read his mind, negative words flaring from Rorschach's head to his partner's. Then he remembered he was drunk. Daniel turned to the unchaste female and smiled apologetically, "I'm sorry, but I'm here with someone." The lady only smiled in return, exposing teeth yellowed by smokes and smeared with red lipstick. "Probably put the lipstick on while she was high on drugs," Rorschach grimaced while he set his intense glare on the whore. The dirty blonde ran a slimy tongue over her chops and traced a bony finger down the brunette's chest.

"Don't need a whore!" Rorschach growled standing up unsteadily. He knocked his glass to the floor by accident, but it made his point clear. He had no problem breaking the woman's face. She sneered at him transforming her features into disgusting deviances of her previous expression. "Yeah?" she hissed, "Well I doubt he needs anything from a masked fag like you!"

Bitch seemed to be in her blood. Smirking with a cool malice, she tightened her hold on the inebriated Daniel. Rorschach clenched his fists, the leather squeaking softly at the friction. He was more than prepared to beat her to a bloody pulp; his fists crashing into her skull blow after blow sending crimson droplets flying into the air, her nose a pancake of crushed bones on her head. He could imagine the pressure of the contact in his hands like electricity. Perhaps he'd come to enjoy pounding people into the ground too much, a sick obsession sprung forth from his need to purify. No. Everyone he killed, even one he left with a single shattered breath deserved it. This whore was no different.

"Not a fag. Not a fag. Not a fag," he repeated in his mind furiously. His teeth gritted together painfully rough.

Daniel elbowed the blonde to the side forcing her to release him from her sleazy grasp. The woman exhaled a breath of surprise and anger before she stormed off, scuffed red pumps clicking off into the distance. Daniel starred Rorschach in the eyes. "Let's just go to my place. Okay? We don't need to be getting into a fight," he said placing his hands on the inked man's tense shoulders.

"It's nothing Daniel. I'm fine," he stated reluctant to even entertain the notion of going to Daniel's place. It gave Rorschach too many thoughts, erotic fantasies surging in his mind like a drug, rapid and flashing like a strobe light, but slow and sluggish to leave.

"Rorschach," Daniel urged. "Please."

Once again he was captivated. The pitch of Dan's voice was a pleading one. It mimicked the needy tone Daniel had in Rorschach's perverse fantasies as he fisted his cock in the corner of a dark alleyway. The idea of returning to Daniel's house sounded more dangerous than fighting off more scum than he could chew, but, for some reason, he didn't have the power to resist his partner. It was the only time he'd allow himself to let down his guard and feel hopeless. He felt safe with Daniel. Maybe that's why he had fallen in love with Daniel.

"Don't love Daniel. Can't love Daniel. Not a fag," Rorschach argued in his mind, but the alcohol that coursed through his veins made his mental battle less persuasive. "I… I… I love Daniel." Rorschach winced at the notion, but knew he couldn't lie to himself. He gulped a wad of uneasiness down and nodded, permitting himself to be lead out the front door of the bar by Daniel. He had been defeated, but that didn't mean Daniel would find out.

The air outside was cold on his second skin, murky city rain pattering on his trench coat and Fedora. The building's lights strained against the darkness in bold colors that caught the eye and spelled out a man's deepest desires. Everything felt so much lighter now that he had escaped the crowded room and the thick choking feeling of smoke and alcohol swirling and tainting the air. This was his element. Filthy streets and disgusting people were what he knew best. He understood the scum and knew what made them squeal. He could speak the street's language. The dark city welcomed him in a strange way only he would know. Rorschach took a step forward and stumbled on absolutely nothing, face planting into the concrete sidewalk outside the bar.

"Shit Rorschach!" Daniel hollered lurching forward to attempt to catch the inebriated red head, but to no avail. There was a hard thud against the pavement and the brunette found himself along side his drunken partner. The booze in their system had dulled the initial pain. Daniel chuckled and smiled widely, allowing himself to lie on the slick sidewalk. The thin black coat of pollution and mud seeping into his clothing didn't seem to bother him. Soon the laughter became contagious (or maybe the liquor had loosened him up) and Rorschach found himself laughing, body limp and his mask getting sullied as he lay his cheek on the ground. Perhaps alcohol wasn't as bad as he had thought.

"I don't think we can walk home without loosing a couple of teeth," Daniel mused pushing himself up to his feet cautiously.

"Cab," Rorschach grunted in mid laugh.

Daniel lent out a caring hand to his masked comrade. "Cab it is," Daniel chirped interlocking his fingers with a purple leather glove to haul his companion to his feet.

Rorschach brushed dirt off the front of his trench coat not paying attention to Daniel hailing a cab. His mind was too consumed by the lasting feeling of Daniel's hand grasping his own. His nerves tingled under the fabric of his glove. The sensation heated his face slightly. He was blushing. Sometimes Rorschach was more than glad he wore a mask when accompanying Daniel. The red head glanced up and saw a yellow cab shinning in the light of the bar, door wide open.

"Come on and get in already!" Daniel called. His body had been swallowed by the mouth of the cab door, but his tan hand waved back and forth frantically from inside. Sliding his hands into his pockets, Rorschach trotted to the cab, eyes focused on the ground so he wouldn't fall again. He could still feel the sting of his previous tumble and taste iron in his mouth. He hunched over and slipped into the vehicle then pulled the door shut. The red head let himself melt into the warmth of the back seat. He couldn't remember the last time he'd traveled in anything other than Archie. Sighing, he let his head fall back making a muffled thud. He was content sitting with Daniel and letting the alcohol run its course. Then again, that was most likely BECAUSE the alcohol was running its course.

Rorschach felt Daniel's fingers snake between his antagonizingly slow. The blotted vigilante stiffened, his mind raced at a dizzying speed. Before he could comprehend what was happening Daniel's sultry face was in front of his. Daniel had managed to straddle Rorschach before the red head could realize the brunette's actions. He groaned at the pressure of Dan on top of his lap and at the hand that caressed his face through the mask. It was all so surreal. Daniel was touching him? Sexually?! Rorschach put a clumsy hand on Daniel's chest, but evidentially the inebriated man had taken it as encouragement. Dan gripped the hem of Rorschach's mask roughly and forced it up to the bridge of his nose. Rorschach had only the time to keep himself from having a heart attack about the mask before Daniel claimed his lips in a chaste kiss. There was a tang of alcohol when Daniel slid his moist tongue into the red head's mouth.

"Too fast. Can't breath. Too hot," Rorschach thought frantically. His skin burned under each place that Daniel placed his calloused hands. First it had been his chest; Dan gripping onto his trench coat like it was a life line, using it to push the two men's faces together closer. Then it had been his hips; grinding their pelvises together roughly as if they were two animals mating in the wild. He could feel Daniel's erection press into his own making him hiss at the pleasure the friction brought.

"Stop Daniel," Rorschach pleaded. It was all WAY to fast. Rorschach hadn't known Daniel even felt a remote sense of attraction towards him, but there he was crushing their hips together like a couple of horny teenagers. He sensed the inching feeling of disgust with himself, the rising level of filth within him. He must have done something wrong. Daniel was drunk. He wasn't thinking straight. Rorschach was letting this happen. He wasn't stopping his friend from doing what he would regret in the morning.

Rorschach made a mental note, "Just as bad as I thought. Never go near alcohol again."

Rorschach did the only thing he knew how and that was using some sort of brute force. Rorschach freed one of his hands from the jumble of limbs then clenched his fist; leather screeching at the friction. With a quick motion, Rorschach punched a hole through the window. The pane shattered and shards of glass flittered onto the men's clothes and the floor of the car. The cabbie, startled by the sudden shatter, slammed on the brakes. The tires screamed against the pavement and the men were knocked forward, Rorschach on top of Daniel. The brunette stared at Rorschach with wide eyes.

"Why… why did you do that?" He asked in a hurt tone as if the red head had meant to hit Daniel instead of the window.

"Too hot. Couldn't breathe," Rorschach explained monotonously before thrusting himself away from his partner. He listened to the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut in anger. That was his cue to leave. He'd already done enough damage to his friend… and, he guessed, the cabbie. "I have to leave," Rorschach stated raggedly. With that last sentence, Rorschach opened the door and exited the vehicle silently. He saw the cabbie's face was red with rage, the restraint almost withering into a murderous frenzy at the sight of his damaged window. Rorschach knew the man wouldn't dare hit him. He was too afraid. Fear was a good thing to hold over people's heads. It kept them in line. The red head popped his collar to the cold and damp and began walking a brisk pace, the halo of a street lamp illuminating his mask.

"RORSCHACH! WAIT!!!" Daniel shouted from the car. He stumbled out and ran at an unbalanced pace tipping from side to side, the alcohol still present in his system, but not as dominant. Rorschach turned the corner, finding himself sauntering down a dim mucky alleyway, rats scurrying in and out of trash cans and broken glass littering the black slime that coated the ground. Sighing as the sounds of Daniel's pleas and the cabbie's roars faded in the distance, the red head slowed his pace, feeling that at last he had outrun his problems. That was, until Daniel reached the blotted man, breath coming from his mouth sharp and haggard. Rorschach became rigid and walked as if his legs were made of wood. He didn't want to see Daniel. He didn't want to gaze at those eyes and remember the fiery passion that they held a mere minute ago. He didn't want to have those thoughts again. He'd already done enough damage, letting his partner in justice, his best friend touch him that way and touch him the same way in return.

"Rorschach please wait. We can talk about this," Daniel begged lagging behind him in step and speed.

"Foul thoughts. Must get away," the red head thought with an acrid bubbling rising in his throat. Rorschach began to quicken his stride once again, but Dan continued to follow with a puppy like loyalty.

"Nothing to talk about," Rorschach retorted bluntly.

"Yes there is God damn it! Look at me Rorschach!" Daniel yelled finally catching up and getting a grip on Rorschach's arm.

Rorschach whipped around and saw Daniel's eyes glimmering in the light of the city, talking without speaking, his bottom lip quivering. Rorschach felt a cringe of pain in his abdomen mixed with the fluttering in his chest. There was nothing to talk about. They could just leave it as it was, go one with their lives, keep their friendship intact, but somehow he knew it was impossible. Nothing would ever be the same, not with those eyes pleading so relentlessly.

Daniel crept a hand slowly up the coarse fabric of Rorschach's trench coat. The mask's symmetrical black pools undulated; a rock tossed into the black and white waters of his second face. The taller man's fingers worked up till they reached the pale sliver of exposed skin between the white scarf and his mask. Daniel wrapped his hand around the back of Rorschach's neck, caressing the leathery skin affectionately, testing the waters, seeing how far his partner would let him go before cracking. Daniel hooked one finger under the hem of the mask… two fingers… three fingers… Rorschach breathing became rapid and shallow. The red head was so overwhelmed by arousal and curiosity that he couldn't budge.

Rorschach could see the anticipation swirling in Daniel's brown eyes and the tremble of his hands as he inched Rorschach's mask to its resting spot on the bridge of his freckled nose. That was a line that even an inebriated Daniel filled with a false sense of strength wouldn't dare cross. Rorschach's cheek was dirty and his lip split from collapsing forward onto the pavement earlier. Daniel leaned forward hesitantly and licked the blood off the masked man's lip like an ice cream cone. Rorschach shivered at the affectionate and timid gesture, staring at Daniel intently. The taller man receded and peered into Rorschach's mask for answers. However, he could never read those mysterious black splotches.

Rorschach's body felt as if molten hot magma was flowing through his veins. His face was flushed and sweaty under the mask. He had half the mind to pull it completely off in one swoop, but remembered his daily precautions even if he was drunk at the moment. Rorschach grumbled inside his mind. He could the bear the heat on his face, but the disabling heat in his pants was a different story. He couldn't deny it; he was already hard from the simple touches and rushed kisses. He cursed himself inwardly. He wasn't going to be some cheap drunken alley lay. Rorschach wasn't a whore like his mother. He was different, he was pure, but no matter how many times he smothered his erotic thoughts in a blinding rage or drowned them in adrenaline they still returned. God, his pants were tight. He remembered back to the day he had caught Daniel emerging from his bathroom, beads of glistening water clinging to his tan skin and a flimsy towel wrapped around his waist. This was the same feeling, but that was sight… this… this was the touches he had only felt in dreams.

Rorschach stared at Daniel's fingers as if they were a curiosity. They hovered over his grimy clothing and when they felt him it was like having an electrical charge surging through his body despite the layers of clothing separating them. It felt amazing. Rorschach raised a shaky hand and grabbed Daniel's shirt roughly. He was rash and inexperienced, but he didn't suppose Dan cared when Rorschach smashed their mouths together, teeth banging against one another's, the taste of the red head's blood on both their palates. Daniel reciprocated the primal attention by ravishing Rorschach's mouth hungrily. The brunette's hands were desperate as they fondled every bit of Rorschach's clothed body. The blotted vigilante groaned and grunted clearly lost in the sensation of Daniel's touch.

"Rorschach…" Daniel separated the passionate kiss. Daniel leaned forward, his hot breath tickling Rorschach's cheeks, and divulged a drunken secret into Rorschach's stubble, "I love you." Rorschach's muscles tensed in shock. Daniel loved him? Daniel, a man who could lead a normal life, have a family, the securities of a white picket fence loved him? Impossible. Rorschach was broken; his face was haggard, no more than muscle, skin, and bones. His frame was like jagged glass, not the inviting curves of a woman. Not to mention he was getting older in age and possessed a temper that made grown men cry. What was there to be desired? What could Daniel have ever found to base his love on? It all had to be a dream, one of those fantasies he'd wake up from and clean his sheets after. Daniel couldn't be telling the truth. This was just one of those fantasies that Rorschach entertained, but knew would never happen. No one could love him, he was Rorschach. He wasn't allowed to be loved, but when Daniel's hands plunged into his purple pinstriped pants the blinding pleasure made his mind go blank and his body react by arching into the strong hand and moan helplessly.

An animalistic growl came from Rorschach's bloody mouth as Daniel gripped his erection tightly. Purple gloved fingers dug into the brunette's overcoat that had been sullied by the ground earlier. The black morphed on the red head's mask in rapid, sharp patterns. The fire started in the pit of his stomach then spread throughout his body via nerves. He could the feel his own pulse, his cock throbbing heatedly in Daniel's grasp. Daniel released his member earning a pained moan from the red head. His eyes were pleading, but Daniel wouldn't be able to see the dilated pupils and furrowed eyebrows.

Daniel leaned forward, the two men's foreheads touching, and claimed his lips; the slick rosy flesh melting together, Daniel's tongue entering Rorschach's mouth to explore the sweet crevices. Rorschach grabbed at Daniel's brown curly locks recklessly, trying multiple times before grabbing an adequate amount to use as leverage to crush their mouths closer together.

Daniel turned his attention back on Rorschach's neglected erection, running his index finger slowly up the vein on the underside of his cock. Rorschach shivered; his mouth opening to let out an exasperated moan. He felt like he was melting, his legs were rubber bands, muscles tense and hard, but they felt nonexistent.

Daniel's fluttering contact drove Rorschach crazy and he frequently pushed his member closer to the attention. Smirking, Daniel nibbled on the blotted man's lower lip. "You need this, don't you?" he whispered on Rorschach's limp lips. The taller man's skilled hands shifted from teasingly caressing the stiff organ to gripping it and giving the flesh a rough tug. Rorschach yelped, his vision becoming blank for a brief second. Had that pathetic sound come from him? "I want to hear you say my name," Daniel growled thick with lust, his thumb spreading Rorschach's precum around the head of his throbbing cock.

Rorschach grunted indignantly and averted his eyes. "No." Rorschach was disappointed in himself for letting this midnight escapade come this far. His cock was in the hand of his best friend, the man he trusted, the man who was most likely still drunk and not thinking clearly. The filth that had lain dormant inside of his chest was slowly being released by each arousing stroke. Then there was Daniel's mouth that was an even bigger detriment to his purity than his hand. He wanted Rorschach to call out his name. He wasn't some whore who howled in a dank alleyway! If the pleasure hadn't been so consuming, he would have broken Dan's nose as soon as he had touched him and disappeared with a single shot from his grappling gun.

"Drunk. Grappling gun, bad idea," Rorschach pondered grimly imagining himself stumbling off a thirty story building to his death or accidentally shooting himself with his own grappling gun; too possible and too ironic for comfort. His brain strained to distract him from his hips that bucked into to Daniel's hands and labored pants. Apparently Rorschach's mind was losing the battle as he wandered in and out of awareness of the hand job he was receiving in a filthy alley.

"Say my name or I'll stop," Daniel threatened in a husky voice. Rorschach could only whimper pathetically in reply. His mind had been lost completely, weakened by the sexual bliss. He was too taken by the sensations to allow Daniel the sadistic luxury of stopping. "Please," Rorschach mewled weakly as he ground his hips into Daniel's hand, "don't stop."

Daniel smirked deviously and began to suckle on a sensitive spot on the base of Rorschach's neck. "Then say my name," he growled then bit into the pale flesh.

Rorschach hissed, the pain adding to the intensity of the pleasure. "Daniel," the red head grunted softly into the crook of his partner's neck, his voice edged with warning. He was capable of becoming just as sadistic if push came to shove.

Daniel's strokes became deliberately slower, extracting small whimpers of arousal from the smaller man's bloody lips. Dan trailed his tongue up Rorschach's neck until he reached the red head's ear, swiping his moist tongue in the shell. "Louder," he whispered.

"Daniel!" Rorschach howled into the night, the sound of the pattering rain keeping their intimate moment private from the world. He wrapped his arms around Daniel's neck for support. He felt like he was going to collapse; a puddle of exhausted warmth on the ground. His breath was rapid and shallow warning Daniel of Rorschach's impending orgasm.

"Not yet," Daniel said. The brunette was panting as well, the hoarse moans and sporadic thrusts of Rorschach's hip had almost brought him over the edge, but he was going to take his sweet time. Rorschach would be his tonight and he would finally be able to make fantasies into reality even if the next morning Rorschach would be gone and he would most likely never see him again. Daniel thought it was better to regret something you did than something you didn't do.

Rorschach's bloody lips were pursed into a tight frown as Daniel released his cock. Both the inked man's member and his hand was slick with precum. Daniel heard the fiery red head growl his name. "Wouldn't you rather finish this at my place? We are kind of exposed in an alley," Daniel reasoned offering his clean hand to the smaller vigilante.

"Hurm," Rorschach grumbled grabbing Daniel's hand.

**Ok. This is my first Watchmen fanfiction. I hope I made you guys proud. Feel free to give me your critiques, I can always improve and the more ideas the merrier. Chapter two will be posted as soon as possible, that's when I'll award my loyal readers with my perverted mind's creation! I have a million different ideas for the owlblot pairing, so look out for my penname when browsing the rated M smut ;)**

**-Thank you for reading,**

**Kazuman21  
**


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